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Brothers (Kimber)
(this has backstory shit- I’m gonna try to keep it vaguely compliant to both the backstory I and Alex know, and the backstory most everyone else knows. Also, technically their names aren’t Az/Crow when they’re young, but you get the point) “Who are you?” growled their assailants. There seemed to be an infinity of them, at least from where they lay. This hovel was not as unoccupied as they’d thought, then. All were Crow’s age or older; and Crow wasn’t exactly the beefiest of his age. Az was vulnerably young- Crow kept back his cowering, for Az’s sake. He knew they couldn’t give their names, not this close. He also knew that that wasn’t what their assailants had been asking. “We’re runaways.” the elder said, badly hiding fear. “Trying to get to House Valenn.” A scattering of hyena chuckles went through the crowd. A big one spoke. “Dressed like that?” A bigger one continued. “Together?” A coal-painted face lunged leeringly at little Az, who gasped and fell back onto his older sibling’s legs. Said older sibling’s heart was full of fear, but regardless, Crow grabbed the little paladin’s hand and stood defiantly. “We’re siblings.” he said. “Where we go, we go together.” ' ' Az hadn’t taken much leave from the army since he joined, outside of what time he gave to Blade Guard Thalia. But both his leaders had agreed to give him Blossari’s retirement off- there was a lot of respect there. And a teenager off military leave always deserved a nice hearty dinner. “Say War, papa?” That seemed to surprise Blossari, but with a smirk and a nod, he obeyed. The prayer the retired High Herald gave was gory and literal, reverent in its bluntness. A traditional one, then. Nostalgic. Az smirked behind his hands (fist over fist, imitating the grip of a spear) and closed eyes. “CitadellianEquivalentOfAmen.” Blossari intoned. “CitadellianEquivalentOfAmen.” Az repeated cheerily, and dug in. Blossari ate like how his age showed- slowly. A moment in, “How are things in the military?” The question was an offering, an olive branch between family. Az never had gotten the hang of that masculine warlike silence his papa seemed so skilled at. So he accepted the branch, and opened his mouth to dig in once again. Not two minutes in, the soldiers were interrupted. In barged Crow, scarf and feathered robe flying. His dark undershirt was stiff with dried liquid- Az no longer bothered to wonder what kind. His brown eyes met his brother’s eyes, and both lit up. They’d seen each other only yesterday, but Crow had disappeared soon afterwards, without proper goodbye. Az stood, and Crow sat. “What honors us with your presence Cr- ow?” Blossari smiled. “Happy retirement again, Herald.” the Watcher ignored. He gestured to the table and its meal. “May I?” Az pushed his bowl over to his brother. Crow may have been eight years his elder, but his bones had never lost their lanky teenage hunger. When the bowl- and a refill- were finished, Az said simply, “So?” Crow gestured with the back of his spoon at Az. At some point his peaked hood had fallen back, revealing tousled dark hair. “You owe me a thank-you.” ' ' One year after the biggest tragedy of Az’s life (one year to the day, Az remembered quite distinctly), his brother disappeared. Not for the usual “hide the young and hunt” overnight mission- he always told Az when that was the case. He’d gone out in the morning to steal breakfast, and never come back. Az, even young, was not an idiot. But he was still a child. It took Crow three weeks to return. For that time, Az was alone, and afraid, and vengeful. He spent nearly two days simply shivering in an alley, waiting for a brother who wouldn’t return. He’d been told to hide when in doubt, after all. Thirst drove him from hiding, and hunger drove him farther. Az was a sweet child by constitution, and could have easily begged for his dinner on the streets of this big city. But instead he fought for it, wrestling dogs and urchins twice his size. He shivered, and cried, and every part of him growled. And every night he returned to the alley, waiting for a brother he was beginning to think was simply gone. One morning he woke to a gift from a stranger who must have pitied his sleeping form in the night. He was too young to consider how vulnerable to things other than charity he must have been, and chalked the gift up to unintentional begging. There was sweetbread wrapped in the gifted silk scarf- and Az decided maybe begging wasn’t such a bad idea. Three weeks after that tragic anniversary, Az had packed what things he had. He’d determined to move on, that foul Fate had taken from him what little he’d had left. Cheeks caked with tears, he fell fitfully into sleep. A shadow, intimidating in its bulk, woke him. One of the bigger urchins, then, to take their vengeance. Little Az coughed, sickly surprise, and raised two little fists and two sleep-blurred eyes. “What now?” he said. “I won’t be afraid of you.” The shadow stood silent for a long moment. Then it fell suddenly to the ground, long cloak and scarf flush against the dirt. Two brown fists flew to the ground desperately. One unclenched and stretched towards Az. Az recoiled back in fear- and realized the shadow was crying. “Forgive me.” it sobbed. “Forgive me, Az, I’m so- I’m so sorry.” Only fear and confusion filled the little survivor- but there was nowhere to run, the shadow had blocked his escape. He backed up, flush to the cobbles, moonlight glowing blue in his terrified eyes. Then the shadow raised his head, and his hood fell back. His brother’s dark hair was shaved, his face scarred, his eyes welling and bursting with tears. Crow had never cried like this, not even a year ago, and Az knew it. The rivers on Az’s cheeks ran anew, equal parts joy and fury. He ran to his brother, fists latched around him, and Crow held him like he was afraid of ever letting go. “I’m so sorry.” he choked into Az’s curls. “I’ll never do it again. I’ll never leave you alone like that, Az, I’m-” “You can’t.” little Az sobbed. “You can’t leave.” “I won’t.” Crow assured, voice cracking. “I won’t.” “You can’t die too.” Az said into his brother’s chest. “I won’t let you.” Something half-laugh escaped Crow’s chest, and he pulled away just enough to see Az’s face. To assure himself he was really there. “You either, okay? I won’t let you.” Crow said, and despite his youth there was an eternity of understanding in those eyes. “I promise.” ' ' Az was nothing if not an improviser. Most decisions in his life had been made for him, and only later would he decide that Time had been kind and moral in her decisions. Mathematically, there was only so much left that the world could take from him, which meant there was that much more to be received. Even if at the sacrifice of other well-deserving men. This was the balance of Fate- to receive, he supposed, another must give up. Crow was not a public man himself, so Az was moderately surprised to see him in the small crowd of congratulators. The smile on his face was fake, but Az wasn’t offended. Almost all of Crow’s smiles were fake. There was real joy behind it, Az knew, but also real concern. Az grinned and waved to his brother- the only familiar face there, other than the failed one behind him. Almost all of Az’s smiles were genuine, despite what many thought upon first introduction. This one, however, was not. ' ' They arrived in House Citadel over a year after that night in the alley, on the doorstep of a nice cottage outside of a beautiful temple. If there was an explanation for why this cottage, this family, Az never heard it. At the time, Az only knew that it had something to do with Crow, and those strange friends of his who had evidently all gone scarf shopping together. An old dragonborn greeted them at the door, and he was stern and wartorn and a little scary. Az’s hand itched to take Crow’s, despite being too old for such assurances. The dragonborn’s slight smile and kind greeting did little to ease his nerves. The cottage was unlike anything Az remembered ever seeing- so neat and strict, and yet overgrown in its zeal. The dragonborn (or rather, Crow) led Az to a well-stocked kitchen, where an even older and sterner dragonborn woman greeted them. Az didn’t like her, yet, but he liked the lamb stew she had ready for them, quite a lot. The few moments he looked up from the meal he saw his brother in the kitchen with the woman, hushed and glancing between themselves. The dragonborn man sat across the table, fists loosely stacked, watching the little paladin with inscrutable interest. Slowly, suspiciously, Az warmed up to the dragonborn that were to be his new parents. Az had never been shown the kindness they gave, distant and stern but never expectant of repayment. Crow left. Not immediately, and not always, but more often than ever he was gone. He also had never been shown unconditional kindness, and he wasn’t about to start trying now. Herald Blossari and Lady Madirisis had been expecting the wholesale adoption of two sons. But for Crow, his part of the exchange had only ever been a deliveryman. Madirisis was a good woman, and a wise mother. It was her who named Az; and Crow, to his immediately chagrin and rejection. It was her who raised Az when he was most broken, and her arms he was sent to when those wounds broke open anew. He’d been gone a month, or two, or perhaps three weeks- the point was, he was gone, and he was never coming back, and he’d broken a promise. His foster father- whose parenting style was much like his preaching in its bluntness- sent him to his foster mother. Scaly arms were rough against his cheeks, but warm and sturdy nonetheless. He didn’t want them- she didn’t care. She held him while Crow’s was the only name he called for, held him until he calmed. Assurances and promises did nothing, so Madrisis didn’t speak them. Instead, she told him the truth that he’d remember for the rest of his time. “He will return, one way or another.” she’d said to his clenched fists. “And soon enough, you’ll be old enough to find him yourself.” Az’s cries stopped, and he made yet another vow- to make that day come as soon as possible.